Mosel Tov
by Nellynee
Summary: Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind.A New Years fic between two predictable friends, and another about two not so much, inspired by the New Year Kiss.  Part one is Wordgirl and Steven Boxleitner, Part Two is TwoBrians and Becky.


**Since I didn't get around to writing another Christmas fic this year, I thought I'd post this up. I got this idea a measly hour from new years and the fireworks made sure I stayed up long enough to finish it. That being said, these chapters have all been made in the manner of hours, and have had almost no proofreading what so ever, you have been warned.**

**Part two coming up latter today.**

**Happy New years everyone. (Lol, today is totally 1/1/11…. Creepy)**

**Warning: Booze, underage drinking (more like tasting)**

Right then and there, Wordgirl decided that one of the coolest things about being a superhero (One of, because flying would always trump everything, ever) was that she could totally stay up way past her bedtime.

Ten minutes after her parents had walked out the door, leaving a disgruntled babysitter and two (supposedly) sleeping children behind, Wordgirl had completed her stuffed animal dummy and had zipped out the window with Captain Huggy Face without so much as rustling the grass outside.

She told herself she wasn't really doing something bad. So what if her parents said she couldn't stay up. This New Years party had been dedicated to her as a thanks for stopping Mr. Big's nefarious New Years ending scheme (whatever it had been, he hadn't really gotten that far) And it was her right, no, her duty as a superhero to let them give her stuff, like a great big party. She simply had to be there, because if she wasn't she'd be insulting the entire city.

Of course she knew that the party was only partially for her. She'd gotten another key to the city and gave a toast with the bubbly seltzer water and "mingled with the commoners" just like she was expected to. But a half an hour or so before midnight the authorities seemed startled that she was still there, and the 8 year old had been herded to the outskirts of the crowd in the city's main street and a number of elected officials, including the Mayor's prompter (through the Mayor's mouth) and her own mother had made it clear that it was "adult time" now and that she'd better get to her home, wherever it was.

Trying not to be disappointed that she had missed the midnight fireworks by just _this much_, she waved good bye to Captain Huggy Face (being an adult, he could stay. Sure her was a monkey, but he was also an adult) who waved back to her a bit dizzily with a suspiciously foamy wine glass and a warbled chirp. She began the flight back at a slower pace than normal, hoping she could draw out the last hour or half till the grand fireworks display in the plaza every year.

When she peeked into an upstairs window in the police station, hoping to check the time, she found a large, electric clock posted on the wall and sighed in disappointment. 11:23. There was no way at all that she'd ever be able to draw out the flight and still be close enough to the city to see the display in all it's glory, not without her conscious hounding her at every turn.

She was so tired she drooped in the air, but somewhere in the back in the mind, a voice kept telling her to slow down, wait it out, stay awake a bit longer, she was _so close_.

Sleepy, distracted, and more than a little disappointed, it took her a moment to realize exactly whose window she'd peeked into. Completely awake, she let out a little squeal of excitement (Just a half an hour to go) before zipping in the window.

It barely took her a second to figure out that he was sleeping.

She wanted to laugh, because she'd managed to stay up longer than at least one adult, but quieted herself to a small chuckle out of respect for his slumber. The man lay slumped over his desk, drooling quite prominently on what appeared to be a series of blueprints, one hand still cradling a now stained and empty glass of coffee.

On the one hand, she probably shouldn't wake him. She'd only met Professor Boxleitner a handful of times in person. At best he'd be offended by her audacity at being here so late and waking him, at worst, he was not a morning person, and might yell at her.

On the other hand, _only 35 minutes until FIREWORKS!_

Having made that decision, she cradled one slumped shoulder in her palm and shook him gently.

"Professor… Professor Boxleitner…"

She decided then, that whispering was silly when you are actually trying to wake them up. She shook him a little less gently this time.

"Professor Boxleitner."

He came awake with a start, coffee cup rolling to the floor with a jerk of his hand. He didn't sit up immediately, but rather, closed his eyes with a groan and rubbed then hard, pinching the bridge of his nose like he had a headache. The other hand came up, feeling the drool stuck papers on the side of his face, and with another groan peeled them away from his face with a sticky sounding peeling noise.

She sat drowsily on a stool she had pulled next to him, glancing at the clock (11:33) and hoping he'd take another 15 minutes or so to realize she was there before sending her home (please, please, pleeeeeeease, just 15 more minutes!)

"Wordgirl…?"

She giggled as he turned toward her, half from being overly tired, and half because the semi printed word stuck to his face had half an "M" before continuing with a complete "_ass"_ and an "e"

She wasn't supposed to know that word, but hey, she was Wordgirl, that's why she never called anyone a dork, no matter how much of a dork they really were.

He scratched his nose, rubbed his eyes once more, and tried again.

"Wordgirl, what are you doing here?"

(11:39) She grasped at straws. Why was she here? She could have just as easily sat on a roof for half an hour.

"I… uh… I wanted to make sure that you… uh didn't miss the fireworks… yeah." Close enough.

He cracked the smallest of flattered smiles, but said smile definitely said the he didn't quite believe her.

"Understandable, but shouldn't you be in bed by now?"

She felt guilty, just a little, until she realized that his voice wasn't disapproving, like he was shaking a metaphorical finger at her. If anything, the smile on his face cracked a little wider with amusement.

She decided to trust him, just a little.

"I wanted to see the fireworks, but they found me in the crowd right after they broke out the ice sculpture/Champagne fountain. I was passing by on my way home, and I thought I could bide time here until they went off then beat my parents back before dawn."

His smile grew wider, and laughter broke through the yawn he'd started.

She like the Professor more every time she met him. A normal adult would be worrying about curfews and wouldn't want to bother with her this late at night, but he simply smiled and accepted the explanation with a dreamy sort of nod.

"Well then lass, I'll make you a deal. In exchange for waking me up in time for New Years, I'll let you stay for the fireworks, alright?"

She nodded enthusiastically, which jostled the little over tired headache she had, but she ignored it in favor of a grand yawn and the face that it was now 11:43.

She was liking this man more and more. Not only would he let her stay, but he hadn't asked for anything in the bargain. No false promises of "being good" no "leaving right after". She woke him, and so she got to stay, and both would get to see the New Year roll in. She hadn't met many adults so willing to trade fairly. (She didn't realize of course, that Professor Boxleitner was very complacent when sleepy, and tended to take everything in stride as it was, so it was less a fair trade and more a dreamy haze.)

In the time it took for her to finish her third round of yawns, the still sleepy Professor had stripped his cot from the other room and spread the thickest blanket he had on the ground, letting her settle on the concrete floor before draping one of the two sheets over her shoulders. He left her sitting there for just a moment, taking the opportunity to open the shades on all the windows (which miraculously, not only facing the plaza, but held an unobstructed view of the near riot down below, some distance away). Turned off all the lights, and then left her vision for a minute (11:47) before coming back with what appeared to be a small bottle of wine.

Settling down beside her, he reached back in a shocking display of flexibility and grabbed the discarded coffee cup, pulled the foil and popped the cork with his thumb, and poured a good inch of what she now recognized as Champagne.

He regarded it almost cautiously, before giving a shrug and saluting her with the glass and a smile.

"I _was_ saving this for tonight. I had been invited to some exclusive little shindig downtown, but with that big party they announced for you a few days ago, the party I had been planning to go to had been canceled and I never made any new plans."

She nodded at him in understanding. Her victory had been cutting it a little close, and the dedication to her had been announced only a few days ago. Anyone who was anyone decided that this was the party of the century, and that you simply had to attend and fawn over the newly dubbed hero of the city.

"Why didn't you just go to my party then?"

Cup half raised to his lips, he arched his brow and shot her a look.

"_Your_ party? They got a Champagne fountain made of ice… Besides, they seem to be doing awful well without you."

She waved and conceded at him but didn't let up.

"You know what I mean, now answer the question."

Pouring another inch into his cup, he sipped it thoughtfully before letting out an almost sad sigh.

"I was only going to that first party to schmooze some eccentric millionaires into being my sponsors for the New Year. Genius costs money after all. At that big bash out there," He used the mug to gesture out to the crowded streets, the loud lull of the crows washing in through the cracked window. "I'd never even get my foot in the door. Too big, too lush, they'd be preoccupied."

He shifted a little, leaned back on the elbow of one arm, and she leaned back too, letting the length of said arm cradle her back.

Boy she was tired, only a few minutes to go.

"Besides, New Years is just an excuse to celebrate. The only real fun to be had is the booze and kissing on something cute when it hits midnight. And I got my Booze right here." He saluted her with the cup again, before he realized that he was talking to an eight year old, and wide eyed, averted his gaze and tried to salvage the situation.

She smile a little because even if its because he forgot she was a kid and hadn't meant to, he'd still treated her like an adult, and that felt good.

"You know what I think?"

Tired and just a little buzzed from almost a quarter of a bottle of Champagne, Steven had been distracted, just for a moment, by his embarrassment and the psychedelic fizzing of the bubbles, and responded with a little distracted "Hm…" before giving his full attention to the girl.

"I think that this party was totally planned so the adults had a night off by everyone in town. _Every single one_ of my friends is being babysat by some teenager and every single one of those teens are complaining about how no one can go out tonight. I think the adults planned it so that everyone under 18 is either babysitting, or being baby sat, so that no one can make any trouble."

The Professor stared at her in surprise for a moment, and just when she was starting to feel _really_ silly for telling him, he gave a great, hoarse laugh out his belly and thumped her on the back.

"You know what lass? That one paragraph right there makes about 10 times more sense than half what my grad students have been spouting out for the last 6 months."

He laughed for another full minute, loud and hard and a little tired sounding, and she laughed too because it _was_ a little silly. Before long, they fell, exhausted and giggling on the floor, and she found herself drawn to his body heat, wrapping her arms around whichever of his arms were closest and resting her head on his shoulders, like when she snuggled in bed with her dad.

It couldn't be long now, but the lack of chanting outside told her she still had some minutes to go, and she as almost disappointed because the professor was really warm and it was making her tiered and it was _waaaaaaaay_ past her bed time.

She watched through the corner of her eye as he leaned forward, poured another inch of Champagne into his cup, and took another sip.

"Can I try?" She'd never had alcohol before.

He snorted.

"And how old are you?" The tone was sarcastic, with a clear "no".

"21." She didn't even crack a smile.

He snorted even louder, on the verge of another laughing fit, but kept his voice steady.

"Oh really? How drunk do you think I am little Miss?"

She made a grabby motion with her fingers.

"You don't know that I'm not. I'm an alien. I could be several lifetimes older that you and you'd never know it."

Surprised again, he rubbed the tiredness from his eyes and shook the haze from his brain before he gave her another crooked smile.

"Touché my dear."

Exhausted, a little drunk, and isolated in this dark room, he found himself not caring about the consequences, and a little amused at being the one to see Wordgirl's first taste of booze. Downing what was left, he poured just enough to cover the bottom of the glass and let it fizz a bit, before handing her the glass.

She grabbed it, and brought it excitedly to her lips, only to get a whiff of alcohol and gag.

Snickering, Steven clinked the bottle to her cup, and let out a snarky "Mozel Tov!" before taking a big swig. She didn't bother to correct him, but plugged her nose and downed the whole thing in one large gulp.

Not the best idea in the world.

She gagged as the taste of rotten grape juice and something like vinegar invaded her senses, and she couldn't breathe without bubbles tingling up her nose and down her throat.

Never again. Never, ever again.

When she finally felt like she could breath out her nose without bubbly snot flying out, she graced him with a great glare, only to be rewarded with a crooked smile over the rim of the bottle and something between a chuckle and full out laughter.

She stuck her tongue out, half to get rid of the taste, and half because she simply didn't like him.

Ok it was just a little funny, just a little bit, so after she smothered the taste of fermented grapes in her mouth with a great slobbery wiped of her tongue to the sheet he was wearing (much to his annoyance) she joined him in his laughter.

The sound of chanting caught their ears, and with a flick of his wrist and a swig of the bottle, an odd, nostalgic look crossed Steven's face as he looked to the sky.

She rather liked that look; it was pretty, even if it was sad and he was a guy.

_10…_

"Professor?"

_9…_

"Yeah?"

_8…_

"I'm sorry I came into your office without asking. I had fun, but I shouldn't have done it, it wasn't right…."

_7…_

"That's alright Wordgirl, you're welcome anytime, morning, noon or night….. Just make sure to knock ok?"

_6…_

They both chucked a little nervously, heartbeat counting the seconds down.

_5…_

"Professor Boxleitner?"

_4…_

"hmmm…?"

_3…_

"I'm cute right?"

_2…_

"Hm…? Yeah, sure are." He broke his stare at the sky to give her a pinch on the cheek and a wink.

_1…_

And just at the first firework blazed across the sky, Steven's head had been turned, just a little bit, and a tentative kiss was placed just at the corner of his mouth. Shocked and dazed, the offender managed to duck her head into the crook of his arm, and they both sat there in the light of the fireworks, quiet under the thunderous boom of igniting gunpowder beyond the windows.

When the colorful lightning in the sky sparked out and the great booming quieted into sizzles, he leaned back a little and shook her out of her shocked reverie. He had been quite ready to promptly drop and forget what had just happened, but her face was both equal parts shy and guilty. Even then, he'd planned to just change the subject, but then she'd opened her mouth. He took another swig from the bottle.

"Sorry…."

"What for?" He went to take another drink, realized that the bottle was half entry and he probably should have stopped a quarter of a bottle ago, and moved to re cork it.

"Even though I had a lot of fun, and you said I could stay, you looked sad all night. You said that "The only real fun to be had is the booze and kissing on something cute when it hits midnight", and since you had the Champagne, and you said I was cute, I figured that a kiss would make you feel better…."

He wanted to laugh again, but her words only reminded him all the more that he'd been _dumped _not two days before New Years, and that he'd had to go through the painful process of canceling reservations and returning a very pretty necklace he'd had engraved for his high school sweetheart, whoa had _dumped him two days before New Years, _and that an _eight year old_ had realized something was wrong, even though he'd spent two days immersing himself in his work to forget.

"Besides, Mom always says every year that it must be sad to have no one to kiss at midnight, and it's a new year, you shouldn't be sad."

The laugh came out more of a sob. Grateful, he slung an arm over her shoulder and squeezed her close as a "thank you" squeezed its way out his tight throat. He dropped a kiss to her forehead and let her go.

"Thank you Wordgirl, I do feel better."

And he did. It still sucked, but she was right. It was a new year, a whole new year. The world hadn't ended and he'd gotten what had to be the sweetest kiss of his life from the most considerate little girl on earth. He so gosh darn thankful that it hurt.

The City was lucky to have her.

She averted her gaze and combed her fingers through her hair in a way that just bled "shy", and it had to be so utterly adorable, and he felt kind of playful for the first time in days, that he looped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her cheek against his stubble roughed one.

"You know what Wordgirl, your right. I've had my booze, now I need something cute to kiss on."

And with that, he gave a great exaggerated pucker and laid three great big kisses across her cheek, purposely wet and sticky, with a great flourishing noise kind of like "POPMWAH!" just like the kiss from that really old grandmother or aunt that everyone had and everyone tried to avoid.

She squirmed and squealed in his grasp as he tried to plant more on her, but she wriggled out of his grip and onto the window seal with a squeaky chorus of "EW! EW! EW!", leaving him rolling on the floor with laughter.

She glared at him once more, but like the Champagne, she found herself laughing along before long. She'd wipe at her cheek, and he'd look up and see that she still had that big wet spot he'd left under her eye, and they'd start all over again until she finally gave up and used her cape to wipe her whole face. (Only to come back, miraculously, with one bit wet spot still under her eye. Not that he'd tell her)

They sat there for a bit, listening to the chaos below as stray, pedestrian fireworks went off in the streets. A little uncomfortable, Wordgirl shifted the window open more, smelling the burnt gunpowder, the haze stinging her eyes, before making a motion to leave.

"Thank you for letting me stay to watch the fire works. I had lots of fun"

He smiled, and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably before giving her a companionable nod.

"My pleasure."

She shifted on her feet, opened her mouth to say something once, twice, before managing to spit out the words, rushed, uncertain, a little panicked.

"Did you mean what you said, that I could come any time?"

He paused, just for a second, whishing he could take a swig out of the corked bottle.

"Of course I did Wordgirl…

He was tired, and more than just a little drunk. Even though he didn't know it, soon she would take advantage of this kindness, taking every bit his friendship offered, never giving in turn. She'd use him up and spit him out without realizing how close in his heart he truly held her. And one day he wouldn't even bother to fight the evil anymore because he'd be more than just a little bitter at the use, a little hurt at her callous disregard of him, saddened that he hadn't meant enough to her help, when it was easier just to throw him away in jail.

Still, never a day in his life, did he ever, ever regret his words.

"… You can come to me for anything, anytime. I will always be here for you, should you need me."


End file.
